Middle
by jelenamichel
Summary: They're trying to close the gap between them. A short conversation between Tony and Ziva. Oneshot.


**A/N: Well, it seems I need a respite from the overwhelming fluff I've been churning out lately. This is set in season seven, but probably before Faith. **

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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At the end of another successful case, Ziva David headed to the bar that had, at one point, been a regular for Team Gibbs. The small, cosy establishment was six blocks form the Navy Yard—far enough away that it wasn't overrun with other NCIS agents, but close enough so that it wasn't too far out of anyone's work to home route. She'd spent dozens of nights there with Abby, McGee and Tony in the past, celebrating a job well done or commiserating over something they hadn't seen coming. But not for months, now. Not since she'd returned to the United States. Not since Michael Rivkin had visited DC. Not since she and Tony started fighting over matters of trust and jealousy.

The now familiar weight of regret settled in Ziva's stomach as she approached the bar, and forced a smile for the bartender who had provided the team with hundreds of drinks over the years. Ben was a 6'3 athletic Texan in his early 20s who occasionally slipped a free round to the team for reasons that Tony, in particular, didn't appreciate.

"Hey there," he said cheerily as Ziva leaned against the bar. "I haven't seen you around for a while."

"I have been out of the country," Ziva replied, but didn't elaborate. She would not be the girl who spilled her soul to the bartender tonight.

Ben reached for a highball glass, anticipating her order. "Well, it's nice to see you back," he said with a wink. "You want a full round?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, not tonight. And I will just have a beer."

He switched the highball for a bottle from the fridge. "Got another scumbag off the streets today, huh?"

Ziva nodded as she pulled out her wallet. "Two, actually. It was a good day."

"So where's the rest of your posse?"

Ziva gave him another forced smile. "Busy. What do I owe you?"

Ben shook his head. "First one's on me."

This time, her smile was more genuine. "Does your boss know how many free drinks you give out, Ben?"

Ben leant forward. "I'm still employed. What do you think?"

"I think if you get fired, we'll loose a great bartender."

He gave her a charming smile. "Is that all I am to you?"

Ziva shook her head and chuckled, and then slipped a five dollar note over the counter to him. "It would be tragic to loose you," she said, then picked up her beer and headed for their regular booth.

It was a quiet night in the bar, with barely half the booths occupied by a mix of regulars. No one paid Ziva any attention as she took off her jacket and then slid into the booth, and that was just the way she wanted it. Tonight, she was not in the mood to talk. All she wanted was to sit there in the semi dark, drink beer, and feel sorry for herself. And this bar, the one she had always visited with her friends but now sat in alone, was the perfect place to wallow.

Her changed relationships with her friends was what drove her tonight to try out Tony's method of dealing with emotional issues. Ziva had been the one to break the case today, connecting the remaining dots and working out the motive of the two men they charged. But when she presented her case to the team, they hesitated. Not for long, but enough for her to realise that, although it looked like they were back to being the close-knit team they used to be, the reality was that she had a long, long way to go before they completely trusted her.

Tonight, Ziva mourned the changes in her friends that she had caused, and was now forced to swallow. McGee was as sweet and loyal as ever, but he'd lost some of that innocence and youth that made him so unique. Gibbs still treated her like a seasoned agent rather than a probie, but it was clear that he did not trust her as he once did. And Tony swung wildly between doing his best to keep her at arms' length, and trying to pull her back to him with all his might.

It wasn't that she didn't understand what was going on, and Ziva knew that there was no magic word that would put things back the way they were. All she could do was keep working to regain their trust and show them her loyalty. It was exhausting, and it hurt, and it might take years, but she would do it. They were her family, and giving up and walking away was not something that she would be able to bring herself to do anymore.

She was shocked out of her reverie when someone slid into the booth across from her, and for a moment she cursed herself for letting her thoughts get in the way of physical awareness. But when it was Tony's face she found herself staring at, she gave herself a break. Surely her unconscious mind had registered _his_ presence without her knowing it?

"Hi," she said, not quite succeeding in keeping her surprise out of her voice.

He gave her a vaguely amused look, and she expected (maybe hoped for?) a quip about her deteriorating ninja skills. "Hey," was all he said.

"What are you doing here?"

He flashed her an almost easy smile. "End of case tradition, right?"

Ziva looked around the room, expecting to see Abby and McGee at the bar. It was empty. "Well, yes, but not since…" She stopped herself as soon as she met his eyes. They were sad and longing, as they had been countless times in the last few months. Every time she saw that look, the one she was responsible for, she hated herself just a little more. She dropped her gaze to her drink.

"What's up?" he asked, the lightness of his tone telling her that he was referring to her thoughts before he arrived.

"Nothing," she said automatically, and lifted her eyes again to give him a soft smile. It was obvious he didn't buy it, but he didn't call her out. He just stared her down until the dragging silence forced her to break before the mood turned hostile.

"I was just thinking about my citizenship test," she lied. "Trying to list all the states alphabetically."

Tony didn't take his eyes off her as he drew from his own beer, and Ziva wondered if his interrogation techniques had improved, or if she was just naturally inclined to feel guilty around him these days.

"You don't need to worry so much about it, Ziva," he said honestly, even if he knew he was just going along with the topic she'd pulled out of her ass. "The test is a formality. You'll be baking apple pie and pledging allegiance by your birthday."

Ziva nodded to cover another raging case of doubt. Did he want her to be a citizen or not? She honestly couldn't work his mixed signals out.

"I thought you were meeting your friend Josh tonight," she said, moving to safer topics.

Tony shrugged. "I wasn't really in the mood."

"Are you two fighting again?" she allowed herself to tease. That got a genuine smile out of him, and she enjoyed the short burst of relief she felt.

"No, we're solid," he assured her. "But I didn't feel like going out and pretending everything was okay." Their eyes met for another silent beat at his intentional call back.

"Everything is not okay?" she asked.

Tony gave her a pointed look. "Everything's fine. I'm just thinking about my citizenship test." The corner of his mouth lifted, enough to tell her he wasn't attacking her, but rather was bothered by the same thing that he suspected was upsetting her.

He looked away at the bar now, waiting her out until she was ready to talk, and Ziva took the opportunity to study him. He was still so familiar to her that it made her chest ache, but it was the little changes in him that broke her heart. The heaviness to his mood that she knew she was responsible for. The darkness in his heart that had forced its way out when his head filled with thoughts of revenge. She wanted to take that away from him. He was too good to play down in the dirt where she'd spent most of her life. She didn't want him to get bogged down in the guilt and self-loathing that came along with it. She wanted him to stay noble and warm and sheltered from the evil that people like her spent their lives concocting in the shadows.

Her eyes travelled over the face that she knew so well. His expressive eyes and signature mouth. His face used to be so open to her, used to display his trust and his thoughts. But now she found it hard to read, and that, more than anything, put her off balance and made her feel like she was failing at this one relationship that she valued above all others.

The words she'd been dying to say for weeks started bubbling inside her again, rising in her throat in a bid for freedom. Lately, they were all she could think when she looked at him, all she had wanted to say. The old Ziva would have never broken and allowed those words to come out of her mouth. They had a sense of desperation about them, a neediness, a vulnerability. They were raw and bare and painfully honest, and Ziva David, Mossad Officer, had no time and no use for them. They would only expose her and bring her to her knees in the end. Transfer the power over herself into someone else's hands.

And yet. Now she struggled every day to keep them inside, and she could no longer see the point in expending so much energy on silence. What did it matter if the words hurt? If they cut deep or left her open to attack? She already hurt. This estranged relationship with Tony was already agony. Pretending that everything was okay…She'd done enough of that with him, and it had never brought her any relief.

Ziva would not do this anymore. She would not lie to him and expect it to save her in the end. After all they'd been through, he deserved more. They both did. And so, with a hammering heart, she finally let the words out.

"I miss you."

Tony's eyes swung back to her, the longing still apparent on his face. But there was something else in his eyes that Ziva hadn't seen for a while now. Encouragement. She waited for him to verbalise it, but he kept his mouth shut and her own anxiety became too much to bear.

"I mean, there are all these other things coming out of that overarching statement that are causing me problems," she said, realising that she was now talking with her hands as she became increasingly nervous. "But that's the general kind of…feeling."

Tony still didn't say anything—it had to be some kind of record, she thought—and in response, Ziva started babbling.

"I just hate this gap between us. I know it is my fault, and that I must do everything I can to fix it. I'm really trying, Tony. I want you to know that."

His mouth remained closed, his face now unreadable again, and Ziva cursed herself for her mistake. She felt old Ziva inside her, shaking her head and berating her weakness. But she couldn't concede defeat just yet.

"You can jump in with your thoughts at any time," she said softly, willing him with all her might to do just that. "I know I am usually the one who holds silence in high regard, but some direction from you on whether I should tell you everything on my mind, or just shut up would be appreciated."

He cocked his head to the side, and for a moment, she could have sworn he was going to say something. But he managed to hold it back, and Ziva's heart fell.

"Okay," she whispered in defeat, dropping his gaze when the pain in her chest became too much. She took a few deep breaths, willing the tears that burned her eyes to stay where they were, and forcibly changed the subject. "So, how about that Declaration of Independence? It is quite a document." She tipped back the rest of her beer and thought about making her next round something harder. Something like absinthe.

"I miss you, too," Tony said finally, with a rough voice and wet eyes.

Her face crumbled for a moment, but she managed to hold it together. "I'm trying," she repeated desperately.

Tony nodded. "I know. I am too." He heaved a sigh and pushed his hand through his hair. "Ziva, I hate being over here when you're over there. It doesn't feel right at all. I think we're getting closer to the middle, but it's going to take a while. And part of me needs it to."

She opened her mouth to let out a bitter laugh, but a sob came out instead. "You need space."

"No," he said quickly. "That's not it. I need it to take its time so that I know we got it right. I don't want us to be dragging this out in the fights we have 20 years from now."

She couldn't help her laugh. "You think we're still going to be fighting in 20 years' time?"

"Well, yeah," he shrugged, like it was obvious. "It's kind of a distinguishing feature of you and me."

And with that, Ziva gave him her first real smile of the night. Because if Tony was thinking about still being together, in one way or another, in 20 years' time, it meant that he really wanted to fix this every bit as much as she did.

"You're actually very intelligent at times," she told him, causing him to shoot her a mock glare.

"Lower your voice!" he hissed, before shooting her a megawatt grin.

Just like always, the smile was infectious and Ziva let herself relax, grateful that she now had a better idea of what was going on in his head.

"Do you think you will have made it to Director by 2030?" she asked.

Tony made a face. "If I'm still at NCIS, you have permission to shoot me."

"Understood. What do you see yourself doing?"

He rolled his eyes. "Um, I'm going to be a pro-basketball player, Ziva," he said obviously.

She laughed. "At 60?"

"What's your point?" he asked, deadpan. "You know, you're not going to be a fresh-faced 33 forever, sweetcheeks. You should think about the portability of some of your special skills, especially in this economy."

She looked at him like he was mad. "Tony, you need to stop watching morning television."

He nodded shamefully. "I know."

They smiled at each other until his face turned serious once more. "I need this fixed as much as you do, Ziva. And I don't want you to up and leave me if things get tough. I don't think I have the mettle to deal with that again."

He held her gaze, and this time Ziva could read his face loud and clear. _Couldn't live without you, I guess._ He needed her assurance that she was in this for the long haul, come hell or high water. And if she wasn't, she should tell him now.

Ziva's reached out and put her hand in the middle of the table. "I'll promise I won't if you promise that too."

His eyes fell to her hand, and, with the barest of smiles, he reached out to twist his fingers with hers. "I promise."

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Apologies for any mistakes. I put this together in a few hours and haven't read it over as many times as I usually do. Thanks for reading!**


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